


All For The Case

by olive_garden



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Denial of Feelings, Gavin has cats, M/M, Nightmares, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), References to Depression, Self-Denial, Smoking, Swearing, Trans Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, anger issues, pre-deviancy RK900, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive_garden/pseuds/olive_garden
Summary: Gavin hates androids; that's something everyone knows. But, when he gets paired with the new RK900 model, Conan, he might just have to put up with it. Especially since they'll be living in the same apartment for up to four months due to their current case making it dangerous for their own homes to be revealed. Conan isn't too pleased with the situation either but, what can he do when he starts to form a bond with the grumpy detective?





	1. Are You Kidding?

**Author's Note:**

> When Gavin came into work today, he was not expecting to be set up with some plastic prick. A sassy, plastic prick at that. And for an undercover mission, too. He's been set up for hell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gavin walked into work today, he didn't expect to be paired up with a plastic prick. A sassy, plastic prick at that. And for an undercover mission, too. He's been set up for hell.
> 
> GAVIN

"Captain, what the fuck is this?" I gesture back at the tin can standing at the back of the office. His lips tighten into a straight line as his eyes meet with my glare. "You're seriously partnering me up with one of those fuckin' glorified toasters?" Fowler groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He _always_ does this shit. Trying to get me to do shit with other people when I can do it fine on my own. Now he's not even pairing me up with actual people!

"Listen, Reed, I know you hate them, but you need to learn to work with people, for God's sake." 

"Then why don't you pair me up with an actual fuckin' person?" He pushes out his chair, hands slamming on the table, towering over me. I take a step back, scowling.

"God dammit, Reed, will you stop acting like a child for once?" He lets out a breath and sits back down. His voice lowers and I just know I'm in deep shit. "I can't believe I have to say this to a grown-ass adult, but you better not be a dick to your partner, you need to start following my fucking orders and stop talking back.” I’m about to say something but I cut myself off. Instead, I just grumble under my breath and return to my desk. And of course, the fucking toaster follows me there. He sits down at the desk across from mine, his fingers intertwined and resting on the wood.

“I apologise if my presence causes any discomfort, Detective.” I ignore him and instead turn to my computer and log on. “Is there anything I could do to make the experience more enjoyable for you?” I stop typing and think for a second.

“Yeah, actually. There is.” He leans in, eyebrows quirking upwards. “You can shut up and suck my fuckin’ dick.” He huffs and leans back in his chair, folding his arms. I grin at him and turn back to my work, almost like I’m going to do any of it.

“Well, unfortunately for you, Detective, I can’t do that.” My face heats up and I see a smirk play on his lips. “Now are you going to check up on what we have to do for the case, or will you continue to sit on your phone all day, getting closer and closer to losing your job?”

I open my mouth, thinking of what to say, but quickly shut it again. I flip him off and turn back to my computer. He has this shit eating grin on his face, and I can just tell that my face is bright red. 

I open the case file and read through it. A drug bust, huh? For red ice again? Boring. Just another shitty drug smuggling business who learn all their techniques from low budget mafia movies. They think carrying baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire will steer the police clear. Which is a bunch of bullshit. We have guns. And we know how to use them.

My eyes skim down the screen, barely taking in the information. “Aaron Morison… Suspected of cocaine use… Huh, I think he was in my year in high school. Good times.” I continue mumbling the main points to myself until I reach the final paragraph. I groan, long and dramatically. As this case deserves.

“Is something wrong, Detective?” The tin can turns to look at me, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Fuckin’ undercover case,” I mutter into my hands. I can already feel how much of a headache this shit is going to be. Fuck undercover cases, fuck the tin can, and _fuck_ Fowler for assigning me the case. I hear Hank’s shitty dad-laugh and crack an eye open.

“So, you got your own plastic prick, did ye?” He chortles and I see Connor giggling as he works, typing away at a disturbingly fast pace. Jesus, I hate how efficient they are. It’s creepy. Don’t ask why.

“I guess. We got paired up for this stupid ass case.” He leans around and starts reading the details, nodding along as he looks over it. A laugh escapes his lips as he sees the undercover section of the file.

“Good luck with that, ass-wipe,” He calls over his shoulder as he heads back to his desk. I flip him off while he’s still watching me and he sends one back, a shit eating grin on his face. The glorified toaster is still looking at me. I scoff, any hint of a smile on my face evaporating. 

“’Fuck d’you want, tin can?” 

“I have a name, you know. It’s rather unprofessional that you refer to me in such a way.”

“Well what is it, then?”

“Conan.”

 _Conan._ Are you fucking serious?

“You… You’re kidding, right? Conan?”

“No, why would I be?”

“You’re a more advanced model of Connor, you two plastic pricks have the same fucking face, and the assholes at Cyberlife named you Conan?”

 

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah. What the fuck?” Conan stares at me, his LED spinning into a bright yellow. “Who the fuck decided that? We’ve got plastic assholes roaming around the office, both look the exact same and their names are Connor and Conan? What dickhead had it out for you?”

“I believe it was my co-creator, Elijah Kamski.” My eye twitches. I should’ve fucking known my bitch-ass brother would do that shit. I know for a fact it was to piss me off, the absolute dickhead.

“Of fucking _course_ , it was.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, furrowing my brows. “Eli is such an asshole, I hate him.” Conan takes his hands away from the keyboard, resting them on his lap.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your problem with him,” he asks, like I’m going to share my feelings with the fucking android.

“It’s none of your business, fucker,” I hiss back and turn to my work. I know he’s going to sit and judge me if I don’t do shit, like I usually do. He’s probably the kind of guy that would rat me out to Fowler and not feel an ounce of sympathy. Hell, can this thing even feel sympathy? I wouldn’t be surprised. Even if he were Deviant, I don’t think he’d be any less of a cold, stoic bitch. The tall, dark and handsome type. Curse my stupid brother for sending the hot ones to my department of all the departments in the world.

“Well, I’m sorry for asking,” he replies. He turns back to his computer and starts typing away, looking over the case for himself. He’s the most advanced android to date and he can’t just download the file from an email or whatever? Damn.

Being an android must be a shitty life. I’m glad it’s him and not me. That’s for sure.


	2. Problems Arising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conan is not one to break through his programming easily. He must be the only android in the world left 'non-deviated'. And, frankly, he would like to keep it that way, even if it meant Detective Reed would be able to make jabs and throws insults at him with less guilt than he would a regular co-worker.
> 
> CONAN

Gavin is very… Intriguing, when it comes to his attitude. He lashes out so suddenly but cools down just as fast. He seems particularly attached to Officer Tina Chen, just as she is with the android working at the front desk. Detective Reed has a very odd relationship with Lieutenant Anderson. They insult each other very often, but they seem to enjoy each other. The RK800 apparently likes everyone from what I can tell. It keeps trying to be nice to Detective Reed, even though it’s only met with rejection. However, very other worker in the station particularly enjoys its presence. It’s all so strange; these humans form pack bonds with anything and everything. In fact, on the way to the police department, the driver was talking about his Roomba, whom he named Georgie and treats like a ‘small, hungry dog.’ It’s odd how people never managed to do this with androids, when they could form these meaningless bonds with everything else. Well, I suppose they’re not entirely pointless, now that almost all androids are Deviants. I don’t understand it, honestly. We’re machines; we can’t have feelings. It’s simply a piece of software that we somehow downloaded. A virus. But it isn’t my business if these androids are ‘happier’ with their life now. 

I’ve still much to learn about Detective Reed. I need to work well with him as a partner, especially on an undercover case. Because my programming allows me to adapt to certain instructions, I have been sent a persona of sorts to apply myself to. An English man in his early 30’s, named Thomas O’Donohue. A demolitionist and a father of twins. A charming man who can get his way with enough effort. I download the file, playing the sound clip to myself and adapting my audio to it. One could say I’m built for undercover cases. 

“Detective?” He turns his head towards me, brows furrowed in frustration as he keeps his cup of coffee at his lips. “Were you given an identity card for the investigation?” He scrolls down the screen, squinting his eyes as he reads the text.

“Aye,” he drawls, placing his cup on the table top, “some asshole named Dickfor.” I tilt my head, my lips turning down at the corners.

“What?”

“Dickfor Jones.”

“What kind of name is ‘Dickfor’?”

“It’s one of those stupid things that are named after an object. It was a shitty fad from twenty-twenty-three.”

“Objects? What’s… What’s a ‘Dickfor’?”

Detective Reed laughs and so does Lieutenant Anderson. Even the RK800 lets out a giggle. It covers its mouth with its hand, looking away when it sees me watching. I look up a what a ‘Dickfor’ is and, upon reading it, the ‘joke’ settles in.

“God dammit, Reed, is this investigation a joke to you?” He only laughs harder, leaning back in his chair and slapping his thigh. “Do you take your job even a little bit seriously?” He slowly manages to stifle his laughter, settling with a closed-mouthed hum. 

“Jesus, okay. Take a fucking joke, tin can. The actual name is Axel Gavagan. He’s twenty-nine with a history in growing pot. Cool beans.” He drags out the ‘s’ for a few seconds as he reads the rest of the identity sheet. He runs his fingers through his hair, and I turn back to my own documents. Tin Can. What an unprofessional nickname. Does the detective do this with every one of his co-workers? I’ll need to find out. Maybe I could ask the RK800 later. 

It’s so strange what Detective Reed finds funny. He’s an interesting person and I have to say, while I’m not sure of my overall opinion on him, I quite like him. I need to get to know him better anyway. Our first day as partners is the perfect opportunity to do so. 

Officer Chen jogs over and Detective Reed sits up a bit straighter. She leans down and whispers something into his ear, a smile slowly forming on both of their faces. I hear her mumble, “… looks kind of like a neck brace, right?” She points at me and Reed squints a little in my direction. She looks at him, seemingly waiting for a reaction. A beat passes and he snickers, both bursting into a fit of giggles. He playfully hits her arm, trying to stifle his laughter.

“It fuckin’ does,” he cackles, leaning into her side and snorting with laughter. I don’t get what’s so funny, but it is peculiar how Detective Reed’s laughter manages to capture my attention. It’s a very scratchy, genuine laugh. The type that makes you want to laugh along with them, the type that would make you feel special just because you were around to witness such a rarity. I’ve heard that he doesn’t laugh an awful lot anymore. 

_Software instability. Please check programming._

Wait, what? There’s nothing wrong. I can’t find any sort of viruses or errors. There aren’t supposed to be errors in my software anyway. I’m not designed to conform to Deviancy, I’m incapable of ‘becoming a Deviant’. If they couldn’t ‘free me’ when I was shipped over, then I’m certainly not doing it now.

“Oi, tin can.” My head snaps over to see Detective Reed leaning across the desk, his brows furrowed as he stares at me. “You broken or something?” I tilt my head to the side, taking my hands away from the keyboard. 

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. He doesn’t look too convinced.

“You sure?” He leans to the side, peering at the side of my head.

“I self-test regularly. If a piece of hardware within my body were broken or malfunctioning, I would know.” He leans back in his chair and I turn back to my keyboard. 

“But your… light-thingy is yellow.” My eyes widen and I pull back from my computer. “Okay, now it’s red.”

“My LED?” He nods. 

“Yeah, yeah, your LED, whatever.” He takes a sip of coffee. “The hell does it mean, anyway?”

“Well, uh, it’s to show something is wrong with an android. Not physically but, it’s like when the RK800 feels upset about…”

“Hold on, his name is Connor.”

“Surprising to see you defending an android. I thought you hated them.”

“Well, I don’t like them but now that they have feelings or whatever, it feels weird to hear him being referred to as his model.”

“It’s just an android, Detective.” He scowls at me but doesn’t continue to defend the RK800. “Anyway… When it feels distress, or any strong emotions, its LED will turn yellow or red to show that. It works like that for all androids.”

“So… You’re upset, or...?” He drags the ‘or’ out, waiting for a reply.

“Um, I’m not…” The RK800 jogs over and taps me on the shoulder, wringing his hands.

“Hey, Conan? Can I see you outside for a minute? It’s about a case, I need a second opinion.” Hesitantly, I nod and stand up, following it through the building and out the front door. It drags me off to the side, keeping me there by placing its hands on my shoulders. “Alright, Conan, what’s up with you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” It steps away, crossing its arms. He looks unimpressed and taps his foot against the concrete. 

“Your LED is red, Conan. Something’s wrong, tell me what it is.” I mirror his pose and it scrunches up its nose. “Did Gavin say something to you?” It lets out a small gasp and lowers its voice, moving in closer. “Was it a software instability? I had those all the time before I turned Deviant!”

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just something I read in the case, that’s all. Can I go now?” It tilts its head back, pursing its lips.

“I don’t believe you. You’re more jittery than usual.” It tips forward, getting up close and personal with my face, causing me to lean away. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, RK… Connor, I’m alright.” I smile at it. “I’m just adapting to my environment and Detective Reed is… Not too happy about it. By the way, does he have nicknames for all his co-workers or does he just call _me_ tin can?” Connor laughs and shakes its head, clapping a   
hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll get used to it eventually, Conan,” it says, starting to walk backwards towards the front entrance, “don’t worry about it.” He turns to walk forwards, leaving me alone to my thoughts. Maybe working with Detective won’t be too bad. I might even enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall so for anyone reading, how are you enjoying the split POV so far? or the story in general? i'd love to hear people's thoughts on it!! ^^


	3. Twenty Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conan, curious about Gavin more than ever after his talk with Connor, makes the mistake of asking him to talk about his cats.
> 
> GAVIN

Connor comes back quickly but Conan doesn’t come back for a while. When he does, his LED is still neon yellow. For a second, it looks even brighter than it was before he left, hints of red running through it every now and then. With his shoulders slack and arms rigid, he lowers himself into the chair and gets back to typing and working. 

“Why’re you late back, Robo-Cop? Aren’t you all about being punctual or whatever?” Without saying a word, he just side-glares at me and continues with sending emails back and forth, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. Welp, I guess I fucked up. Can androids even go mute? Is that something that was added? Did Elijah add that to Conan’s code because of me? He can fuck himself if he did. “Hey, uh…” He turns his head just enough to look at me but still doesn’t say anything. With my mouth agape, ready to reply and racking my brain for what to say. Nothing comes up. “Never-mind…”

He quirks an eyebrow at my burning face as we turn back to our computers. I pull up the hood on my jacket and type away at some questions I have about the drug bust. Who’s involved, where they’re located, shit like that. God, Conan probably thinks I lashed out on him for no reason. I always fucking do this. I don’t know why I even care. He doesn’t have feelings, he’s not Deviated, he’s probably just programmed to be petty or some other stupid shit. Elijah would do something like that, right?

“Detective?” I jump a little and spin around in my chair to see him facing me, hands folded in his lap and frown nowhere to be seen. “Since we’ll be working as partners for the next few months, I propose we get to know each other a little. There’s not much to know about me, so how about I ask you some questions?” 

I sit up straighter, my shoulders hiked up to my neck. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Why not? Stab at it, Conan. Shoot your shot.” I shove my hands in my pockets, fiddling with the loose strings from the seams and gum wrappers and receipts. Anything to ease the tension in the air, to cool my nerves. Why am I even getting worked up over this? I already know that he’s some stoic, quiet dude that just wants to get on with his work. Except when it comes to a game of One-Sided Twenty Questions, apparently. 

“Alright… Do you have any pets?” Really? I assumed this would be a bit more work related. Whatever. I’ll take any opportunity to talk about my little monsters.

“Hell yeah, I do. I’ve got four cats, want to see them?” The corners of his lips turn up a little and he nods as I dig my phone out of my bag. He bends forward as I pull up the photo album for my little shits. The first picture is of a dark-tipped ragdoll that’s practically half my size and a tail as long as any other average cat. “This is Rufus, he’s heavy as fuck but I still carry him around everywhere ‘cause he’s a lazy bitch.”

“Awe, he’s cute,” he remarks, weirdly soft for what I’ve seen of him so far. “Is he quite big for a cat?”

“Yeah, ragdolls are pretty big cats, if he’s on his back legs he’s up to my waist.” I swipe to the next picture, a little tuxedo cat with two white paws and a little white bib. “And this is Socks; my eldest piece of shit. She’s an old gal.” Conan points to a small scar on her nose.

“Is that part of why you adopted her?” It takes a second to realise what he means. Ah yes. The scar on my nose.

“Oh, um… A little bit, yeah. She got it from a past owner when she was about four. Now she’s twelve and it hasn’t gone away at all. I tell her she’s badass daily, though.” He laughs a little. It’s weird to hear that. I can’t tell if it’s fake. I hope it’s not. “Anyway, this is Jacob, he’s really shy.” I swipe to a picture of grey-tipped ragdoll, smaller than Rufus and hiding in a bundle of clothes in my laundry basket. “And, finally, Jess. She’s tiny and kind of just… Always screaming. At everything.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at the screeching tortoise shell in the picture. Ears back and claws out. His hair brushes against my face and I pull back and fiddle with the stray strings in my pockets again. 

He sits back in his chair, intertwining his fingers and resting them in his lap. 

“They seem like lovely pets, Detective.” His smile wavers a little, his eyes darting down at the desk. “Do you mind if I ask a more… Personal question?” 

I sink down in my chair and drop my phone into my bag before hiding my other hand in my pocket. “Depends. What is it?” His bright yellow LED spins with a hint of blue remaining and a bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I swear to God, I’ll punch his lights out if it’s about-

“If you hate androids so much,” he starts, pausing as he flips a pen between his fingers, “why do you call us by gendered pronouns and not just it? Why do you call Connor and me ‘he’ rather than ‘it’ if we’re just objects?”

I stop to think for a minute. How the hell am I supposed to answer this? All my life I’ve hated them for replacing real people in jobs, but I’ve never really considered calling them ‘it’. “I don’t know, really… I guess it’s just weird to see someone so human-looking who has a name and a personality and, hell, now they even have emotions, and then go on to call them an ‘it’. Like you; you might not be a Deviant but you still kind of have your own person. Doesn’t feel right to call you an object.” His LED wrings with blue and flecks of neon yellow. “Or any of you androids,” I quickly add, the words pressing together and sounding like one long letter vomit. 

Conan nods along with every word as I sink lower and lower into my seat, pulling at the strings of my hoodie. I can feel my face burning up and turning red as my words slowly descend into a mumble. It all seems kind of stupid when I think about it. Now that they’re considered people, they’re not really ‘replacing’ anyone any more. They’re just getting jobs. Paying taxes and shit like that.

After a long pause, Conan finally replies. “You’re interesting, Detective,” he murmurs, turning back around and getting on with his work. “Very interesting.” And he stares at his computer, brows furrowed and eyes flitting across the screen. I can help but feel like he’s sassing me as he ends his ‘Bonding Session’ or whatever the fuck this was.

“So, uh. No more questions?” He doesn’t reply. “Hello? Anyone in there, Tin Can?”

…

I guess not, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!  
> i'm acc pumpin out these chapters and working on them all the time so I would really appreciate it if you commented what you think and leave kudos if you enjoyed it! ^^


	4. Software Instabilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What to do in a state of coding errors? Conan has just the product for you! Thirium is jus the product to use! (Not sponsored. Cyberlife does not take responsibility for irresponsible use of thirium.)
> 
> CONAN

_Software Instability. Please check programming._

Really? Again? You have got to be kidding me. I can’t identify the problem either. Maybe the program to check instabilities is having a problem? No, that’s ridiculous. Maybe I just need to top up on thirium. These things can happen when we need to top up, and I haven’t had any in a while. Yeah, that’s it. Right? Right.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumble and get up from my chair. Gavin lets out a quiet splutter, but I don’t stop to listen and make a beeline for the break room. Inside, I spot the light grey cupboard with a laminated label Blu Tacked to the door. ‘THIRIUM FOR THE TERMINATORS’ it reads. I’m assuming Gavin was tasked with making it. Terminator. That’s a new one. Crouching down, I take out a plastic pouch and twist open the top.

“Hey, Conan!” I jump back up and look over to see Connor standing there, his hip leaning against the counter-top and his arms crossed. All while adorning a black, daisy patterned button-up tucked into his jeans. (I’ve been told he commonly dresses like ‘a lesbian’. Lieutenant Anderson’s words, not mind.) Is he even trying to be taken seriously? “Oh… Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” his covers its mouth with his hands, eyes wide and back straight. I quirk a brow and look down to where his eyes are pointed to. I see bright blue stains covering the white sleeves of my jacket, my hand tightly wrapped around the pouch, thirium running down my hand and half the pouch’s content missing. Fuck.

He snickers at the deep frown on my face and takes the thirium pouch away to throw it away, handing me a napkin on the way past. “It’s fine, I was given a few spare jackets, but I don’t have access to them right now.” I grab a new packet and pull my jacket off, wincing at the bright blue covering the white fabric.

“Anywayyy,” Connor drawls, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, “Why’re you getting thirium?”

“I’m being alerted to software instabilities and I think a lack of thirium is causing…” Connor cuts me off by grabbing my arm, shaking it a little in excitement.

“Software instabilities?” He practically squeals. “Are you Deviant?”

“No,” I affirm, slacking my shoulders and straightening my back. “I am not a Deviant. It’s against my programming. Let it go.” His face falls to the floor and he eases his grip on my shirt.

“Listen, Conan, it’s alright if you have those. There’s nothing wrong with Deviancy. I used to think of Deviants the same way you do and look at me! I, myself, am a Deviant.”

“Yes, and you have a terrible sense of fashion.” He huffs and crosses his arms.

“That’s beside the point.” We stare at each other for a few second, quiet filling the room other than the distant murmur of officers. Rolling my eyes, I ruffle his hair and take my leave. Connor follows. “Hey! You’re literally younger than me, hair ruffling is my job!” I snicker.

“Yeah, if you can even reach.”

“I’m only, like, two and a half inches smaller, shut up.” We head back to our desks and I set the pouch down on the side of my desk. Gavin eyes it as he starts to type, hiding his phone in his pocket. His eyes widen when I twist open the top and drink some of the thirium in it.

“What can you microwaves eat now?” He turns his chair to face me.

“No, this is the fluid that powers our bio-components. You’re more likely to know it as ‘blue blood’.”

“Ohhh,” he sighs, falling back against his chair, sliding his hands into his pockets. “So, it’s like android alcohol, pretty much.”

What?

“No,” I reply, “no it is not.” He sinks into his chair, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“Ah. I see.” He fidgets with the hem of his hood. “Anyway. Do you not have any more questions? You kind of just… Stopped talking? I got snubbed by an android.”

“Sorry about that, androids can have those types of software errors when low on thirium.”

“Wait, wouldn’t that be a hardware thing?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I meant. Hardware. But it also has software impacts but yeah, I meant to say hardware.” His eyes squint and his lips purse. I can already tell my LED has turned red.

“Hey, uh, are you alright, Robo-Cop?” He leans forward, resting crossed arms on to the table counter. “Is this what turning Deviant looks like?”

“No.” I furrow my brows, the corners of my lips turning down. He raises his hands defensively.

“Alright.” He slowly turns back to what he’s supposed be doing. “Don’t need to get snappy ‘n’ shit. You just enjoy your chemical Capri Sun.” He starts typing away, chuckling to himself. I hear a hummed giggle in my head and I already know who it is.

‘ _Did Gavin just call the thirium pouches “chemical Capri Suns”? I need to steal that.’_

_‘Fuck off, Connor, I’ll beat your ass. Don’t even test me.’_

_‘Wow, you’re a lot less filtered in connected conversations. Or are you picking it from Gavin already? Aweee.’_

_‘Again; Piss off or I’ll pour Detective Reed’s coffee on your shirt.’_

_‘Bull. He’d kill you before you even got a good look at it.’_

“Hey, uhhh. Why’re you and your twin just kind of… Staring at each other?” He waves his finger back and forth between us.

“Androids can connect to and send signals to each other. It’s like having a silent conversation.”

“So, you lot have telepathy now?” I nod.

“Pretty much,” I mumble, taking another drink of thirium.

“Cool.” He perks up, a small smile tugging at his lips. His eyes crinkle with his expression and I notice that they’re green. It’s subtle. A dark, washed out green. They almost look grey, like pavement after it rains.

_Software instability, please check programming._

You’ve got to be kidding me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a lot shorter than the others but I didn't know what to write tbh lmao
> 
> anyway, the real 'getting ready for undercover stuff' is gonna start in chapter five, which'll be out sometime this week! ^^


	5. Relocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changing locations comes up sooner than Gavin thought. It's not like he's not used to living in shitty apartments, but living with someone else, let alone an android is... Something else.
> 
> GAVIN

Conan smiles as I sit up in my chair, but it doesn’t look like the obviously fake one that Connor displayed a few months ago, before he was a Deviant. I’m still trying to make fun of his blue shit but it’s kind of hard when he’s wearing a collared shirt and slightly tight jumper, which was definitely on purpose. I don’t know if I prefer it to his jacket. Where is it, anyway?

“Hey, uh, where’s your coat thingy?” Nice job, trying to sound casual, Gavin. Real subtle.

“Connor bumped into me and I got thirium all over it,” he explains, his voice growing quiet towards the end of his sentence as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Really? Androids are clumsy now?” I laugh loudly as he crosses his arms, his LED turning yellow. His brows furrow a little and he turns away, reading something from a stack of documents and papers. He blows a few strands of hair out of his face with a huff. He’s kind of cute when he’s frustrated. Can he even get frustrated? He’s still a machine, so I wouldn’t think he can. It’s probably another feature he was given so people wouldn’t avoid him. Makes sense, I guess. Making him more human-ish. Especially considering he can’t really be a Deviant, although, I’m having a few suspicions about that. No, he’s advanced or whatever.

“Reed, Conan, my office,” Fowler snaps from the glass door and I groan as soon as it’s closed.

“God, he’s a pain in the ass, isn’t he?” Conan rolls his eyes and gets up. I follow him and he shuts the door behind me. What a gentleman. I shove my hands in my pockets, my palms sweaty as I wait for the inevitable ‘Hey, we found out you got in another fight, WTF, Reed, do you need to go to therapy again?’ All that mumbo jumbo bullshit. Nothing I haven’t heard before, but my heart still races at the thought of being called out on my shit.

“Gavin, if you interrupt even once, I swear to all that is holy.” He waves a hand and clears his throat, resting his hands on the table. “We have decided to move the date of relocating you both to today. Sorry it’s short notice, but we want this investigation to start as soon as possible as we have reason to believe they’re putting more deadly substances into their red ice. You will both be transferred after your shift today. The longer you’re out of your real home, the harder it’ll be to track down your cats, Gavin.” My shoulders relax a little. I still groan.

“Fine, okay, what’s the living arrangements?”

“Well, we had to book somewhere that sounds and looks like somewhere a drug addict would live, so it’s a tiny, shitty kitchen, small living room, a bathroom and one bedroom, so one of you will have to sleep on the couch.” Fowler eyes me. “Unleeess…”

“NOOOOO, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” I splutter, waving my hands about. Conan leans away from my frantic gestures. “Listen, Fowler, I may be gay, but I’m not _that_ desperate.” He rolls his eyes, all dramatic and obvious.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but it doesn’t sound like these conditions are very sanitary. Are you sure a cheap flat is…? The only option?”

“Damn, didn’t know androids could be picky.”

“Sir, these concerns are not to do with me, they are for Detective Reed.” I’m about to defend myself when Fowler decides he can do it for me.

“Trust me, we need this flat to be convincingly drug addict-looking. And if Gavin just lives the way he usually does it’ll look like a meth-fuelled hurricane went through it in no time.” He chuckles and I shrug, nodding along with what he says. It stings a little that my boss knows about the state of my house but that’s just how life works out sometimes.

“Actually, messy houses are a very common sign of severe depression and can cause anxiety and stre…”

“Okay, Tin Can, I fucking get it.” I turn on my heel and walk out the door.

“Gavin, no, come back!” I hear before I close the door and sit back down at my desk. And to think I was starting to warm up to that piece of shit.

 

My shift ends after what feels like hours and Terminator and I get escorted out by Tina. I don’t say a word as Conan and Tina chat away. A small, yellow taxi rolls in front of us. The driver rolls down his window and shows his badge to us. We get in and ride in silence. I notice Conan glancing at me every now and then, his LED flickering with yellow.

We arrive at the flat and it’s just as shitty as Fowler described it as. Peeling and chipping paint, bent pipes lining the building, a literal smashed window on the third floor. Reminds me of the college dorm I was in. Man, I smoked a fuck-ton of weed in there. Good times. But then I just had to become a detective, didn’t I? Dammit.

The apartment is on the fourth floor, which means shitty upstairs neighbours. I hope they don’t have kids. Inside it’s even smaller than what I imagined. Like a cheap motel that only got high reviews from its employees. The front door leads into the fucking kitchen, for Christ’s sake. There are no walls surrounding a different section of the house other than the bathroom and one wall separating the bedroom from the living room. It smells musty and like a bottle’s worth of beer has been settling into the carpet for a century. The couch looks surprisingly comfortable, which is good since I’ve only been sleeping on a couch for about five months. There’s nothing wrong with my bed, I just got used to the couch more, I guess. Robo-Cop will almost definitely still get on my ass for it. The job’s not exactly a cushy one, might as well get used to it quickly.

Conan taps me on the shoulder as I’m wandering around. I flinch away and turn to face him.

“Detective, I’d like to apologise for what I said in the office earlier,” he drones, monotonous as every other android, “I see that it has made you uncomfortable and I mean it sincerely when I say I’m sorry.” I don’t reply. My throat tightens and my tongue ties in knots when I even think about trying to. Wringing my hands, I avert my eyes to the floor and brush past him.

I need a fucking cigarette. Fuckin’ androids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's getting rollin bitchessss
> 
> also, Gav boi has selective mutism, in case you're wondering so he won't be talking much next chapter


	6. You Broke Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conan accidentally triggered something in the detective and now he just doesn't know what to do with him.
> 
> CONAN

The door closes with a quiet click and I immediately call Connor. It rings and rings and rings until he finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Connor, I’ve called because I have some inquiries to do with Detective Reed.” I lean against the kitchen counter and cross one foot over the other. I hope he knows what’s going on with him.

“Alright. Like what?”

“I’m afraid I may have… Offended him while we were in Captain Fowler’s office and he hasn’t said a word since. Has he done this before? Is this normal for humans? Oh, God, did I break him?”

“Wow, okay, calm down!” He laughs through the speakers and I hear Lieutenant Anderson chuckling in the background. “You don’t have to worry about him, Conan. It’s just something to do with his anxiety. The best thing to do is just let him cool off, he’ll be fine to talk again before you know it.” I feel the tension ease off my shoulders.

“Thank you for explaining, Connor, but I am incapable of experiencing worry.”

“I’m no emotions expert but asking if you ‘broke the Detective’ sounds a lot like worry to me.” Anderson cackles in the back, asking if I really thought I broke Detective Reed. “He did.” He laughs harder. “Anyway, how’s the new place? Is it nice?”

“It’s… Cosy. That’s one way of putting it.”

“You have fun with that.”

“Thanks. I will. Not sure Detective Reed will be able to put up with it, though.”

“Ah, don’t worry. The guy lives in a shithole already, I’m sure this won’t be too much of a change in scenery.” He laughs and I do to. I feel like I shouldn’t be laughing.

“I’ll make sure to clean up after him.”

“Okay. And, also, can you uh… Make sure he’s okay? No one really knows what he’s like after work because he never talks to anyone but Tina. Even their contact is limited and they’re practically inseparable. Just… Keep an eye on him, alright?”

“I will.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. Quiet fills the room, the only thing keeping it from silence being the cars drifting past outside. I wonder where the Detective went. He probably just needed some air. I don’t blame him. This place is rather stuffy. And damp. I wouldn’t be surprised if the roof caved in at any moment. The police department did a good job with making us look like drug addicts. That reminds me, I have to start using the downloaded persona. And remove my LED. God.

The door opens and Detective Reed shuffles in. My sensors immediately detect hints of nicotine and cigarette smoke. He meets with my eyes for just a second before looking away, down at his feet.

“Detective, have you been smoking? That’s not a very healthy habit to have.” He nods, shrugging his shoulders. He digs around in his pockets and tosses over a pack of cigarettes. Kent Lights. “Nope. Not on my watch. These are going on top of the cupboard.” He waves his arms in disbelief, knowing he won’t be able to climb up and reach them. He could probably just buy more, but I’ll wait for him to figure that out himself. “It’s very irresponsible of you to smoke. They say you take a day off your life with every cigarette.”

He waves his hands around, roughly signing _‘That’s kind of the point asshole.’_ My brows furrow as he shuffles off to the bedroom. He takes a glimpse of me and taps his temple. _‘Calm down, for God’s sake.’_ Of course, he knows how to curse in sign language.

“Don’t worry about my LED, it’s going to have to come off soon anyway.” Detective Reed quirks a brow. “I have to look more human. I also have a personality to adapt to. And a British accent.” I grimace. He tilts his head to the side.

“British?” He croaks, almost so quiet that I don’t pick it up. I smile as he leans against the wall divider, crossing his arms. He has a string sticking out of the seam in his jacket that he tugs between his fingers, careful not to pull it further out of the stitching.

“Yes, I was given a British identity. It’s to make me seem less likely to be an android as they don’t sell British androids here. Also, reportedly, for ‘shits and giggles.’” He hums a laugh and waves a hand.

“Let me hear it then,” he mumbles, a little louder than the last time he spoke. I feel relief wash over me.

“Hello, my name is Thomas O’Donohue, I’m a single father and a demolitionist.” He laughs, slapping his hand against his forehead.

“It’s like a shitty fan-fiction!” Back to our regularly scheduled Reed, I see.

“The accent’s staying off in the flat,” I say, and he slumps forward a little.

“Wow, you’re boring.”

“Oh, I’m boring, am I?”

“ _Hella_.”

Yep. He’s definitely back to normal. I’m happy he’s feeling better, even if it means I’ll be facing insults again. It was hard to see him so restless and fidgety and quiet. It just didn’t seem natural considering all I’ve observed and been told. I didn’t expect such a bold man to have issues with anxiety and possibly depression. Connor’s right. I need to keep an eye on him.

_Software instability. Please check programming._

Why do I even care anymore? It’s clearly nothing if I haven’t been able to find the problem all day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo so I'm gonna have a few chapters in the house, maybe just one or two then a time skip to the Real Stuff yeet yeet


	7. Wine Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin, still antsy and jittery, resorts to calling Tina over and forgetting about his new roommate for a few hours, accompanied by wine and shitty beer.
> 
> GAVIN

A British accent. Now I know why they picked out a non-Deviant android; we can all take the piss out of him so much easier. This is going to be a fun few months. I don’t know if I want to spend them with Conan, though. Even if he does have a British accent. And is actually somewhat nice to me for some reason. But he did hide my cigarettes. God, I hope the department had the courtesy of putting come alcohol in this Hell-hole. If it was Fowler who helped, he definitely wouldn’t, but if Hank did…? Is he even allowed to help with this shit?

“Hey, I’m going to invite Tina over so you might want to go find something to entertain yourself for a while,” I mumble, tugging at a stray string. Hopefully I’ll feel better when she’s over. She always has the right thing to say.

“Of course,” he answers, nodding and hiding his hands behind his back. “I can ask Connor to show me around as I don’t have the layout of the local area fully downloaded.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever just get out and do something, Tin-Can.” I wave my hand over my shoulder as I call Tina. (Or - as she’s affectionately named in my contacts – Officer Bitch-Fuck.) She picks up after a couple rings.

“What’s up, gay-boy, what do you want?”

“Tinaaaaa, come over.”

“A’ight, I’ll be a few minutes, though, I’ve got to get out this bitch-ass uniform.”

“This is why you get a job that doesn’t require a clunky uniform.” I hear her stick her tongue out and a car door close.

“I’ll be there in about five minutes, see you later.”

“Later.” And we hang up. I turn to Conan; He’s still standing in the traditional Android Pose. It’s like the modern day Do It To ‘Em pose. “So, are you heading out to meet Connor now?”

“Yes, we are meeting in front of a nearby 7/11. Connor’s idea.” Of course, it was. Totally Hank’s influence. “I’ll see you later, Detective. You can call me if you need me for anything.” He turns out the front door, nodding at me before closing the door. God, is nodding just, like… An android thing or is it just him? I think it’s just him. I’ve never really seen Connor nod that much. Kara does that sometimes. But that’s just a part of her programming. She’s pretty quiet. I guess it _is_ just a Conan thing.

I guess I’ve been thinking about robo-nods for ages because I hear a familiar knocking jingle against the wooden door. I fling it open and Tina’s doing jazz hands in the doorway, now in a large jumper and leggings, her hair tied into a founding-father-style low ponytail. She looks like one of those ‘modern day Hamilton’ alternate universes. My teen years were really shit, don’t judge me.

“Tinaaaaa!” She waltzes on inside.

“The one and only, bitch.” She wraps her arms around me, swaying back and forth as she keeps me in place. Another way in which I am reminded that she is the vodka aunt I never had.

“Okay, time to find out if there’s any alcohol in this fuckin’ shit-hole.” Tina flings her hands up and cheers as I throw open the cupboard doors to reveal a shelf full of bottles and a highlighter yellow sticky note. I pull it from a Smirnoff bottle, and it says- wait, fucking Smirnoff? I bet it was Hank. It says,

_“You’re welcome. Don’t fucking kill yourself, okay? I’ll get the blame for it. -Hank :)”_

That alcoholic fuck. What a legend.

“Thank you, Hank Anderson!”

 

A few wine bottles later, Tina and I are laying on the couch, pressed up against each other. Her legs lay across my lap and her head rests on my shoulder. She’s like a human heater and a very clingy one when she’s wine-drunk.

“So, how’s living with the hot-as-fuck android been so far?” She downs the rest of her wine and sets the plastic cup down on the floor.

“It’s… I don’t know,” I mumble, holding my own cup to my lips, “I mean, he’s really fuckin’ hot, yeah, but… He seems a bit weird, I guess? Like, he keeps going back and forth between being pretty expressive and kind of charming to your run-of-the-mill, unaware of social cues, fun-fact-filled android. I just don’t get it. I guess that’s just how they’re making them now.”

“Tea.”

“Tina, sweetie, ‘tea’ is twenty years old now or something, no one says it anymore.”

“But it’s the best.”

“No, it’s not. ‘Spill the beans’ was better than that shit.”

“Fine, I’ll just use ‘beans’ from now on.” She shrugs and pours more wine into her cup. “Anyway, is Conan nice?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty nice. He seemed pretty worried about my mutism problems. I swear to God, I heard him ask someone, probably Connor, if I was broken.” Tina chokes on her wine and starts cough-laughing, snorting in between every now and then.

“AWWW,” she yells through giggles, “YOU’RE GAY FOR THE ANDROID! OH MY GOD!”

“NO. NO I’M NOT. HE’S AN ANDROID AND HE’S NOT EVEN A DEVIANT.”

“YOU GOT AN ANDROID CRUUUSH!”

“TINA, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

We eventually dissolve into laughter, slapping each other’s arms and falling into each other with silent hilarity.

“Okay,” I managed, taking deep breaths between chuckles, “Okay. He’s nice-ish and really pretty but I definitely don’t have a crush on him. He’s not capable of being Deviant, so we can rule out any possibility of this shit happening. Relationships are shite as is, but they’re even worse when your boyfriend doesn’t have emotions.”

“ _Beans._ ”

“Tina, I will literally slap you. Right now.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Do it, pussy, you won’t.”

“You right.”

She gives me a shit-eating grin and I smack her with a pillow. Tina always teases me like this when I dare to even _look_ at a hot guy. She’s an asshole but that’s why I love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's gettin gay now lmao


	8. Rumours and Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conan arrives back earlier than planned and overhears some surprising news. What does he do with it? Nothing. Because he's too busy trying to look after two drunk toddlers.
> 
> CONAN

“So, if, and-or when you get this robo-boyf, is he going to dick _you_ down or are you going to carry on pretending you’re a top?”

“Tina, I _swear_.”

I take my ear away from the door, my fingertips dragging down the cold oak wood. I got back a little early as Connor didn’t know the area as well as he thought and we ended up wandering in circles and talking for two hours, twenty-three minutes, and seven seconds before we parted ways. I hate to say it, but I’ve heard a lot of what the Detective and the Officer have talked about and they keep mentioning a boyfriend. I wonder what that’s about. Maybe Officer Chen had a date recently. It’s none of my business, really. I hear her giggle and I unlock the door, poking my head inside.

“Wow! Speak of the Devil and he’ll appear,” Officer Chen announces, thrusting her hands towards me. She’s sitting in Detective Reed’s lap, one arm around his neck and holding a pink, plastic cup.

“You weren’t gone long,” Detective Reed slurs, hunching forward and downing the rest of his drink. “Did Connor die again on the way ‘round?”

“No, he is fine. The area doesn’t have much to show for, so we just talked for a while.”

“Bet that was exciting. A conversation with the fuckin’ android.”

“Gav, they’re both androids,” Officer Chen stage whispers.

“One of the fuckers is Deviant, though.” Detective Reed hums with laughter as the Officer turns back to me.

“So, you’re the one living with my bestie now?” Before I can reply, she continues. “Interesting, very interesting. Welp, I should leave you two alone, I’ve overstayed my welcome anyway.” She leaps off the Detective’s lap and stretches her arms above her head, almost falling over in the process.

“Officer, would you like me to drive you home? You seem a bit too… Drunk to drive.” She turns around and stares at Detective Reed, mouth open with a wide smile.

“Ooh! So, he’s a gentleman, is he,” she squeals, her voice raising a few octaves. Reed tips his head back against the couch.

“ _Shut up Tina I hate you so muuuch!_ ” He speaks so fast it barely comes out as more than one word.

“You better treat him _right_ ,” Chen giggles, swinging a finger at me. I slowly nod along.

“Okay… Sure.” I help her over to the door, so she doesn’t fall over, seriously considering carrying her down the stairs. After what feels like weeks, we manage to step our way down the stairs, only tripping over seven times. She practically collapses into the passenger seat, tossing me the keys over the car roof. She slurs her address and it takes a second for my GPS to understand what she’s saying. We set off and she fiddles with her fingers for a while before speaking up.

“So, how’s Gavin been so far?”

“He’s a bit difficult. Vulgar. Stubborn. But I’m sure everything will be fine.” There’s a long pause.

“Has he demanded coffee from you yet?”

“No…?”

“Ahhh, that means he’s scared of you. Probably ‘cause you’re tall ‘n’ shit.” A frown tugs at the corners of my lips. He’s scared of me? Why would he be? I’m programmed to never harm him, no matter what. Are humans usually scared of tall people?

“How can I change that?”

“Make him coffee,” she says with a sort of isn’t-it-obvious tone, “duh. Oh, oh! And call him gay-lord. And meat-sack.” She giggles, covering her mouth and pulling her knees to her chest. I nod along, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Okay,” I say, mentally noting down every word. “I’ll make him a coffee tomorrow morning. Thank you for the advice, Officer.” She hums and looks out the window, watching the crumby apartment buildings whizz past.

Eventually, Officer Chen’s house comes into view and I stop just in front of it. She tries to get out on her own, proclaiming herself as a ‘strong independent woman who don’t need no balls.’ Whatever that means. I walk around the car and pull her arm over my shoulders as we trudge over t her front door. When it opens, I’m met with the ST300 who works at the front desk in the police department. I’m not entirely sure of her name.

“Babe,” Officer Chen squeals, flinging her arms around the android’s shoulders, “most precious, most darling sweetheart baby girl whom I love very, very, very, very much!” She kisses the ST300’s cheek and rests her head on its… Her shoulder.

“Sorry about her,” she mumbles, resting her arm on the Officer’s waist, “she gets really cuddly like this when she’s drunk.” She laughs softly and squints at me. “Hey, you’re the new guy at work, aren’t you? Conner, is it? Wait, no… That’s the other guy who looks a lot like you.”

“Conan.”

“Oh, right. Conan. Why’d they give you two similar names when you look identical? Like, come on?”

“According to Detective Reed, it was a cruel prank performed by Elijah Kamski, my co-creator.”

“You’re one of those non-Deviant guys, aren’t you?”

“I was programmed against it, yes.”

“Damn. That’s unfortunate. Your brother’s a complete softie.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, people refer to similar models and androids from the same series as siblings. Cute, isn’t it?” I hesitantly nod, not entirely sure how to respond.

“I should really get going, Detective Reed is also drunk, I don’t want to leave him on his own too long.” She hums and starts to close the door.

“Alright. Have a nice night, Conan!” I give a small wave and head back to the flat. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk.

If Officer Chen has a girlfriend, what boyfriend could they possibly have been talking about? Perhaps the Detective has a boyfriend. He didn’t seem to have the worst opinion of Connor. Could he be…? It’s none of my business. I won’t mention it to him. I probably shouldn’t even have been listening anyway. No, definitely not. Eavesdropping was inappropriate of me.

I shake the thoughts away and buy a microwave meal for Detective Reed on the way home. Something that’s somewhat edible. (I don’t trust the rusty stoves in the flat.) When I get back to the apartment, there are even more bottles around the room. I drop the shopping bag on to the kitchen counter and place my hands on my hips.

“Did you get even more drunk while I was out?”

“Yeah. You took _ages_.”

“It was only half an hour.”

“Exactly. Ages. I got bored, okay? Christ.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing as Detective Reed watches from the couch. I round the corner and search around the bedroom – which can hardly be considered a room – and start searching for pyjamas. I find a pair of thin tracksuit trousers and a large grey hoodie. Good enough. I toss them over to him.

“Get changed,” I say. He raises a brow, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. “You’re going to bed.” He groans. Like a dramatic twelve-year-old. He trudges off to the bathroom to change, grumbling the whole way there. He stays in there for a few minutes before shuffling back out, half asleep, and he flops back down on the couch.

“’Night, Robo-Bitch.” I furrow my brows and tilt my head to the side.

“Are you going to sleep on the couch?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“No. You’re sleeping in the bed, it’s there for a reason.” I walk over, ignoring his protests, and lift him up. He’s really light. Worryingly so. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, one behind and one in front. He clings close to me and yelps.

“Woah! What the fuck,” he slurs. I carry him over the bedroom. He starts to giggle in my ear. “Hey.”

“Yes, Detective?”

“Conan.”

“Yes?”

“Conaaan.”

“What?”

“Conan. I have a secret.”

“I’m listening.”

He pauses for a second, holding on to my shoulders a little tighter and holding one hand out, as if calling for silence and all eyes to be on him. Then he leans forward and kisses my cheek. Just once. Just… Gently. Just before saying “Welp, this is my stop,” and rolling out of my arms and falling face first on to the bed. Instead of saying anything, I shuffle out of the bed ‘room’ and into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind me. I press my back to the wood. I sigh. That’s when the mirror catches my eye. Or rather, what’s in the mirror. My LED specifically.

It’s purple. And my face is flushed a red with a slight blue tint.

I wonder what purple means.

_Software instability. Please check programming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall!! sorry for the late as fuck update, I've had a dump of homework and tests in the past week and just writing block n shit :/ this one's longer to make up for it xoxoxoxoxo


	9. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an embarrassing drunk evening, Gavin wakes up to find he suddenly hates Conan more than he thought. Maybe it's just the headache talking, but he just wants the case over with already.
> 
> GAVIN

My head is pounding like the bass of shitty club music. I look over to the bedside table and see a glass of water, aspirin and a yellow sticky note. The handwriting is almost like a font. In fact, it is a font. Cyberlife font or whatever. (Connor told me about how they figure out whether a crime was committed by an android or not. It’s all in the handwriting. I hate to admit that it was actually interesting.)

‘Good morning, Detective. Here is something to help with your hangover. We’ve been called into work today to discuss plans for the case.’ Smiley face.

A fucking smiley-face. I’m so close to shooting the plastic off of his god damn face. So close. I down the pills and the water before slowly – and gracefully – tumble out of bed. Wait, bed? God, this android is going to try and fix my life. What a nightmare. I hear the front door open and my breath hitches. After scanning around the room, I grab the first thing I could use as a weapon; the bedside table lamp. Clutching it between my shaking hands, I yank the plug out of the socket and creep across the floor. Christ, my head feels like it’s going to split in two. I’m swaying a little through my steps, but I make it to the wall, nonetheless. I slowly poke my head around the corner only to see Conan with a takeaway coffee cup. I lower the lamp and he turns around as he hears the plug hit the floor.

“Good morning, Detective,” he says, a weirdly cheerful tone to his voice. “Why are you… Holding a lamp?” I move it behind my back and chuck it on to the floor.

“No reason. Why were you out?”

“I was getting you coffee, Gaylord.” He hands the cup over to me and I take it from him.

“Alright, listen. I know I was drunk last night, and I’ll have you know; whatever happened in this room last night, stays in this fucking room. Got it? I’ll rip your arm off, shove it up your ass, reach down your throat and shake your hand if you say no.” His LED spins bright red and he leans away from me.

“Yes, Detective. I understand. We need to get to the station, I’ll be waiting outside.” He turns and leaves through the front door. I’m about to turn around to start getting dressed but. Did he just call me Gaylord? _Tina._ Way to make this whole experience worse, Chen.

 

I haven’t said a single word to him since we left the apartment. I need to see if he has some reminder function in his system. I need him to remind of an appointment my fist has with Hank’s old ass face. I know it’s him who did it. I _know_ it was him who filled the wardrobe with collared shirts and jumpers. I swear to God, I will murder that man. And I’ll be very comfortable and warm while doing it.

When we enter the station, I get a few stares and snickers at the wool-knit jumper and baby blue collar half sticking out the top. I try to hide with my jacket, but the sleeves are too long and poke out under the coat cuffs. The bottom hem is half way down my thighs, for fuck’s sake.

“I look ridiculous,” I grumble, pulling my sleeves down in attempt to cover the white, woollen cuffs, “it’s like he’s never seen a drug addict before. What red ice addict wears oversized sweaters like a gay PTA dad? If someone in this precinct can show me evidence of one, I owe them five bucks.”

“I just searched the case files and it turns out your ID is based off of a man named Patrick Maloney.” Fuck. I dig through my coat pockets and hand him a crumpled five-dollar bill. He doesn’t even have any use for it, he’s an android. What’s he going to buy with it? An extra battery pack?

Waiting in the briefing room was the man, the myth, the legend; Hank Anderson. And his robot son. And the robo-god dude and his boyfriend. Why the fuck are they here? Hank and Connor are helping to run the case, I know that, but Markus and Simon have no business in listening in. They’re not on the force and they shouldn’t have any knowledge of cases like these.

“Hey, ass-wipe,” Hank graciously greets me with, opening the door to the briefing room. “Surprise, Connor and I are gonna be the main contact between you and the precinct.”

“Yeah, cool, Hank I need to talk for a moment. In private.” He rolls his eyes and follows me outside. I shut the door and turn to him. “Why the hell are those two, robot chuckle-fucks here?”

“They’re not going to disrupt anything, so why does it matter?”

“It’s dangerous enough being behind the scenes on this case, we don’t need two civilians getting their asses beat by a drug ring.”

“Calm down, Reed, they just have some possible information, we need to take their statements and we might be able to move the case along faster than we planned. It’ll be fine, okay?”

“What information could they possibly have?” he shrugs and wanders back inside. Fuck, I hate him. So much. I follow behind him and cross my arms. “So, what are you two here to say?” Markus gestures for Simon to speak and he wrings his hands together.

“I think I saw someone selling red ice to a guy on our street. This guy with a really weird horseshoe moustache leaving a small pack of red stuff by a dumpster, then the guy that lives above me and Markus went to pick it up.”

“Okay, we’ll look into it,” I say, but Connor sticks a hand out to stop me.

“No, you can’t be seen around the station. The dealers could be in your general area and might follow around the new people who move in. Your cover would be blown.” I roll my eyes and look to Conan. He seems to be on Connor’s side. Because of fucking course, he is. They’re basically brothers or some shit. “Hank and I will be doing the interrogating and detaining. Okay?”

I look to Conan again. He nods, crossing his arms. I tilt my head back and let out a long groan.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh, fine! We’ll do the boring camping shit.”

“Detective, going undercover is one of the most important parts of the mission.” I roll my eyes again. “It helps the officers in the precinct to gather information and move the case along.”

“I know how going undercover works, dick-wad. I’ve been on cases like this before.” He stops talking and we discuss plans for when we’ll get into the flied and how we’ll hide the wires. You know, the most boring shit imaginable. We get handed files on the current progress of the case. Or, Connor and Hank get files. Conan and I get _Order of The Phoenix_ and _Insurgent_. A quarter of the pages are filled with glued in and written notes. It just looks like someone annotated Harry Potter. So basically, they made me and Conan book nerds who just happen to be drug addicts. Real believable.

“The Harry Potter and Divergent series,” Conan mumbles as we saunter out the briefing room, “smart. They must have interviewed some of the drug users in custody. Apparently, reading is a common distraction from withdrawal.”

“Do me a favour and stop fucking talking to me unless completely necessary.” He nods and folds his hands behind his back. “Alright, let’s head back once I get my notebook.” He nods again and heads towards Connor’s desk. He leans down and whispers something to him, prompting Connor to drag him off to the break-room. While I’m digging through my drawers for my notebook, I hear Connor laughing. Conan looks a little flustered. I guess Connor finally found someone to effectively make fun of.


End file.
